Chapter Thirty-Two
AYDA
The moment Drew’s body hit the concrete I was on my feet. Across the room, The Hounds were in various states of attack, trying to break free from their guards so they could reach, and save their president. Jedd was doubled over, one of the two Navs surrounding him coming in for another swing while he was down. Slater was in a knockdown, drag-em-out fistfight with two more enemies, his hair a mess. A bloody streak tore down his chest as he moved from one Nav to the other, only allowing himself to be distracted by Drew’s body when he was between the two attacking him. Kenny was face down on the concrete, held down by a couple more as he bucked and struggled, his cheek being pressed into the dusty rubble beneath him, and Deeks was holding his own with two men over by one of the machines he’d tried to circle around. Moose was with an injured Ben, the two of them working their way through the swarm of Navs that stood between them and Drew, neither one of them caring for their own lives anymore… only the club’s president.
It was pure bedlam, but all I could think about was Drew and the dark pool of blood that was slowly growing around him. I tried to run, to get to close enough to help him, but Ifound myself just as restrained as the rest of them. Only none other than Eric Tucker himself was holding me back. He was still weak. I could feel that in his shaking limbs, and his desperate grip on me was using every last vestige of his strength.
“So help me, God, if you don’t let go of me!” I screamed in a blind rage, my hands swinging at his arms to dislodge him. “Eric, let me go!”
“Ayda, think, goddammit.”
Think?He wanted me tothinkwhile Drew was laying face down on concrete, very likely bleeding to death.
“Do you want to end all of this once and for all?” he growled, his hand tightening around my upper arm as he pulled himself to his feet, using me as leverage. I was so close to hyperventilating, my body trembling like a tuning fork. All I could think about was getting to Drew, and my pathetically weak body was being restrained by a man who’d been half beaten to death.
“W-what do you think?” I finally stuttered, trying to shake him off. Panic was rising, clawing its way from the deepest depths of me.
“Trigger is going to kill Drew, and he’ll killyouif you get in his way. Drew won’t fight to live if you take yourself away from him on some suicide mission. Don’t you get it, Ayda? Drew’s got too much to lose, so you have to keep yourself safe, and give him something to damn well live for.”
Those words made me stop and stare at Eric. His eyes were so similar to Drew’s that looking into them made my heart ache. A quiet keening of pain rose in my throat, my gaze flickering to Drew.
“This motherfucker said no rules, right? Which means his assholes can’t contest anything we do to help Drew win that fight now. That asshole is showboating for his men. He’s egging his boys on to take out The Hounds, knowing they willfight to the death to save Drew. You and me are all that’s left. You gotta get out there and get me a gun. I swore to Drew that... I can’t…” He sounded as frustrated and worried as I felt.
We both glanced to where Trigger was circling Drew, the knife catching the light as he moved, both of us growling as he kicked Drew’s side and sent a ripple of anger through The Hounds that were already fighting. Eric was right—Trigger was trying to stir up every guy in our MC, and taunt them to continue the fight.
He wanted every one of us to die, and for it to look like it was our idea.
It was up to Eric and me to stop this.
I turned back to Eric. “Where the fuck am I going to find a gun?”
Releasing a painful lungful of breath and wrapping his arm around his ribs, Eric nodded to one of the guys guarding Travis. His back was to us, his broad shoulders filling out the cut with the Navs’ patch across the back.
“He has one in the back of his pants. If you can get us close enough, grab the gun and get it to me. I’ll do the rest.” He gave me a stern look—a look that Drew had once given me himself. He reminded me so much of his son. “After that, you get yourself to safety.”
“But—”
“Trust me.” He groaned in pain. “For once in your goddamn life justtrust me, Ayda.”
I stepped into him, my shoulder easing under his armpit to support most of his weight. I moved us as quickly as I could manage, dragging him away from the altar and into the fight that raged around the open space of the warehouse. It felt like I was standing in the middle of a football game. Men were throwing themselves at other men, the coppery smell of blood and sweat mingling and tainting the air, making it thick andheavy. The grunts of pain and growls of rage were followed by thunderous steps as they charged at one another like raging bulls. Eric and I were walking straight through the center of it all.
Eric grew heavier with every step we took. More of his weight seemed to come down on me as exhaustion and fatigue set in, his breaths hard and labored while blood oozed from the cuts Trigger had left on his chest. If Drew’s life hadn’t been on the line, I probably would have slowed down and helped him more, but my driving force was now in my line of sight. Although every step felt like I was carrying three men on my back, I took it, and forced myself to go to the next and then the next until I was panting with as much effort as Eric was.
“Leave me here and go now,” Eric groaned when we were only ten feet from our target. He was holding his side with his other hand and fighting to stay on his feet when he uncurled his arm from my shoulders and stumbled forward. “We’re running out of time.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Trigger was already growing bored with the fighting around him, and Drew was beginning to stir at his feet—two things that didn’t leave us with much time to get the job done.
“Be careful,” Eric said, barely blinking as I stepped away from him.
I nodded, focusing on the one thing that could force me forward.
Drew.
I broke through the fight that Kenny was in the middle of. Kenny had been surprised at my presence and had worked around me, his instinct to get me the fuck out of there overruled when another Nav stepped in on his other side and took a pot shot. I’d seen that defiance in Kenny’s eyes and pushed onward, finding myself barely three feet from the Nav that Eric had pointed out to me.
I could see the gun sticking out from the waist of his jeans, and I hoped to God that the weapon would be in my hand long before he realized what I was doing. But before I could take so much as a step forward, one of the Navs smacked into my body, sending me surging into the guy who I’d been sneaking up on.